Even though I’m constantly surrounded by servants and Silvers, loneliness sets in. I don’t see Cal much, what with his busy schedule of training, training, and more training. He even gets to leave the Hall, going to address troops at a nearby base or accompanying his father on state business. I suppose I could talk to Maven, with his blue eyes and half smirk, but I’m still wary of him. Luckily we’re never truly left alone. It’s a silly court tradition, to keep noble boys and girls from being tempted, as Lady Blonos put it, but I doubt it’ll ever apply to me.
Truthfully, half the time I forget I’m supposed to marry him one day. The idea of Maven being my husband doesn’t seem real. We’re not even friends, let alone partners. As nice as he is, my instincts tell me not to turn my back on Elara’s son, that he’s hiding something. What that might be, I don’t know.
Julian’s teachings make it all bearable; the education I once dreaded is now a bright spot in my sea of darkness. Without the cameras and Elara’s eyes, we can spend our time discovering what I really am. But the going is slow, frustrating us both.
“I think I know what your problem is,” Julian says at the end of my first week. I’m standing a few yards away, arms outstretched, looking like the usual fool. There’s a strange electrical contraption at my feet, occasionally spitting sparks. Julian wants me to harness it, to use it, but once again, I’ve failed to produce the lightning that got me into this mess in the first place.
“Maybe I have to be in mortal danger,” I huff. “Should we ask for Lucas’s gun?”
Usually Julian laughs at my jokes, but right now he’s too busy thinking.
“You’re like a child,” he finally says. I wrinkle my nose at the insult, but he continues anyway. “This is how children are at first, when they can’t control themselves. Their abilities present in times of stress or fear, until they learn to harness those emotions and use them to their advantage. There’s a trigger, and you need to find yours.”
I remember how I felt in the Spiral Garden, falling to what I thought was my doom. But it wasn’t fear running through my veins as I collided with the lightning shield—it was peace. It was knowing that my end had come and accepting there was nothing I could do to stop it—it was letting go.
“It’s worth a try, at least,” Julian prods.
With a groan, I face the wall again. Julian lined it with some stone bookshelves, all empty of course, so I have something to aim at. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him back away, watching me all the time.
Let go. Let yourself go, the voice in my head whispers. My eyes slide closed as I focus, letting my thoughts fall away so that my mind can reach out, feeling for the electricity it craves to touch. The ripple of energy, alive beneath my skin, moves over me again until it sings in every muscle and nerve. That’s usually where it stops, just on the edge of feeling, but not this time. Instead of trying to hold on, to push myself into this force, I let go. And I fall into what I can’t explain, into a sensation that is everything and nothing, light and dark, hot and cold, alive and dead. Soon the power is the only thing in my head, blotting out all my ghosts and memories. Even Julian and the books cease to exist. My mind is clear, a black void humming with force. Now when I push at the sensation, it doesn’t disappear and moves within me, from my eyes to the tips of my fingers. To my left, Julian gasps aloud.
My eyes open to see purple-white sparks jumping from the contraption to my fingers, like electricity between wires.
For once, Julian has nothing to say. And neither do I.
I don’t want to move, afraid that any small change might make the lightning disappear. But it doesn’t fade. It remains, jumping and twisting in my hand like a kitten with a ball of yarn. It seems just as harmless, but I remember what I almost did to Evangeline. This power can destroy if I let it.
“Try to move it,” Julian breathes, watching me with wide, excited eyes.
Something tells me this lightning will obey my wishes. It’s part of me, a piece of my soul alive in the world.
My fist clenches into a tight ball and the sparks react to my straining muscles, becoming larger and brighter and faster. They eat away at the sleeve of my shirt, burning through the fabric in seconds. Like a child throwing a ball, I whip my arm toward the stone shelves, releasing my fist at the last moment. The lightning flies through the air in a circle of bright sparks, colliding with the bookshelves.
The resulting boom makes me scream and fall back into a stack of books. As I tumble to the ground, heart racing in my chest, the solid stone bookshelf collapses on itself in a cloud of thick dust. Sparks flash over the rubble for a moment before disappearing, leaving nothing but ruins behind.
“Sorry about the shelf,” I say from beneath a pile of fallen books. My sleeve still smokes in a ruin of thread, but it’s nothing compared to the buzz in my hand. My nerves sing, tingling with power—that felt good.
Julian’s shadow moves through the cloudy air, a laugh resounding deep in his chest as he examines my handiwork. His white grin glows through the dust.
“We’re going to need a bigger classroom.”
He’s not wrong. We’re forced to find newer and bigger rooms to practice in each day, until we finally find a spot in the underground levels a week later. Here the walls are metal and concrete, stronger than the decorative stone and wood of the upper floors. My aim is dismal to say the least, and Julian is very careful to steer clear of my practicing, but it becomes easier and easier for me to call up the lightning.
Julian takes notes the whole time, jotting down everything from my heartbeat to the heat of a recently electrified cup. Each new note brings another puzzled but happy smile to his face, though he doesn’t tell me why. I doubt I’d understand even if he did.
“Fascinating,” he murmurs, reading something off another metal contraption I can’t name. He says it measures electrical energy, but how I don’t know.
I brush my hands together, watching them “power down,” as Julian calls it. My sleeves remain intact this time, thanks to my new clothing. It’s fireproof fabric, like what Cal and Maven wear, though I suppose mine should be called shockproof. “What’s fascinating?”
He hesitates, like he doesn’t want to tell me, like he shouldn’t tell me, but finally shrugs. “Before you powered up and fried that poor statue”—he gestures to the smoking pile of rubble that was once a bust of some king—“I measured the amount of electricity in this room. From the lights, the wiring, that sort of thing. And now I just measured you.”
“And?”
“You gave off twice what I recorded before,” he says proudly, but I don’t see why it matters at all. With a quick dip, he switches off the spark box, as I’ve taken to calling it. I can feel the electricity in it die away. “Try again.”
Huffing, I focus again. After a moment of concentration, my sparks return, just as strong as before. But this time they come from within me.
Julian’s grin splits his face from ear to ear.
“So . . .?”
“So this confirms my suspicions.” Sometimes I forget Julian is a scholar and a scientist. But he’s always quick to remind me. “You produced electrical energy.”
Now I’m really confused. “Right. That’s my ability, Julian.”
“No, I thought your ability was the power to manipulate, not create,” he says, his voice dropping gravely. “No one can create, Mare.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. The nymphs—”
“Manipulate water that already exists. They can’t use what isn’t there.”
“Well, what about Cal? Maven? I don’t see many raging infernos around for them to play with.”
Julian smiles, shaking his head. “You’ve seen their bracelets, yes?”
“They always wear them.”
“The bracelets make sparks, little tiny flames for the boys to control. Without something to start the fire, they are powerless. All elementals are the same, manipulating metal or water or plant life that already exists. They’re only as st
rong as their surroundings. Not like you, Mare.”
Not like me. I’m not like anyone. “So what does this mean?”
“I’m not quite sure. You are something else entirely. Not Red, not Silver. Something else. Something more.”
“Something different.” I expected Julian’s tests to bring me closer to some kind of answer, but instead they only raise more questions. “What am I, Julian? What’s wrong with me?”
Suddenly it’s very difficult to breathe and my eyes swim. I have to blink back hot tears, trying to hide them from Julian. It’s all catching up to me, I think. Lessons, Protocol, this place where I can’t trust anyone, where I’m not even myself. It’s suffocating. I want to scream, but I know I can’t.
“There’s nothing wrong with being different,” I hear Julian say, but the words are just an echo. My own thoughts, memories of home, of Gisa and Kilorn, drown him out.
“Mare?” He takes a step toward me, his face a picture of kindness—but he keeps me at an arm’s length. Not for my sake—his own. To protect himself from me. With a gasp, I realize the sparks have returned, running up my forearms now, threatening to engulf me in a raging bright storm. “Mare, focus on me. Mare, control it.”
He speaks softly, calmly, but with steady force. He even looks frightened of me.
“Control, Mare.”
But I can’t control anything. Not my future, not my thoughts, not even this ability that is the root of all my troubles.
There is one thing I can still control though, for now, at least. My feet.
Like the wretched coward that I am, I run.
The halls are empty as I tear through them, but the invisible weight of a thousand cameras presses down on me. I don’t have much time until Lucas or, worse, the Sentinels, find me. I just need to breathe. I just need to see the sky above me, not glass.
I’m standing on the balcony a full ten seconds before I realize it’s raining, washing me clean of my boiling anger. The sparks are gone, replaced by fierce, ugly tears that track down my face. Thunder rumbles somewhere far off and the air is warm. But the humid temperature is gone. The heat has broken and summer will soon be over. Time is passing. My life is moving on, no matter how much I want it to stay the same.
When a strong hand closes around my arm, I almost scream. Two Sentinels stand over me, their eyes dark behind their masks. Both are twice my size and heartless, trying to drag me back into my prison.
“My lady,” one of them growls, but it doesn’t sound respectful at all.
“Let me go.” The command is weak, almost a whisper. I gulp down air like I’m drowning. “Just give me a few minutes, please—”
But I’m not their master. They don’t answer to me. No one does.
“You heard my bride,” another voice says. His words are firm and hard, the voice of royalty. Maven. “Let her go.”
When the prince steps out onto the balcony, I can’t help but feel a rush of relief. The Sentinels straighten at his presence, both inclining their heads in his direction. The one holding me speaks up. “We must keep the Lady Titanos to her schedule,” he says, but he loosens his grip. “It’s orders, sir.”
“Then you have new orders,” Maven replies, his voice like ice. “I will accompany Mareena back to her lessons.”
“Very well, sir,” the Sentinels say in unison, unable to refuse a prince.
When they stomp away, their flaming cloaks dripping rain, I sigh out loud. I didn’t realize it before, but my hands are shaking, and I have to clench my fists to hide the tremors. But Maven is nothing if not polite and pretends not to notice.
“We have working showers inside, you know.”
My hands wipe at my eyes, though my tears are long lost in the rain, leaving behind only an embarrassingly runny nose and some black makeup. Thankfully, my silver powder holds. It’s made of stronger stuff than I am.
“First rain of the season,” I manage, forcing myself to sound normal. “Had to see it for myself.”
“Right,” he says, moving to stand next to me. I turn my head, hoping to hide my face for just a little bit longer. “I understand, you know.”
Do you, Prince? Do you understand what it’s like to be taken away from everything you love, forced to be something else? To lie every minute of every day for the rest of your life? To know there’s something wrong with you?
I don’t have the strength to deal with his knowing smiles. “You can stop pretending to know anything about me or my feelings.”
His expression sours at my tone, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “You think I don’t know how difficult it is to be here? With these people?” He casts a glance over his shoulder like he’s worried someone might hear. But there’s no one listening except the rain and thunder. “I can’t say what I want, do what I want—with my mother around I can barely even think what I want. And my brother—!”
“What about your brother?”
The words stick in his mouth. He doesn’t want to say them, but he feels them all the same. “He’s strong, he’s talented, he’s powerful—and I’m his shadow. The shadow of the flame.”
Slowly, he exhales, and I realize the air around us is strangely hot. “Sorry,” he adds, taking a step away, letting the air cool. Before my eyes, he melts back into the Silver prince more suited to banquets and dress uniforms. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s fine,” I murmur. “It’s nice to hear that I’m not completely alone in feeling out of place.”
“That’s something you should know about us Silvers. We’re always alone. In here, and here,” he says, pointing between his head and his heart. “It keeps you strong.”
Lightning cracks overhead, illuminating his blue eyes until they seem to glow. “That’s just stupid,” I tell him, and he chuckles darkly.
“You better hide that heart of yours, Lady Titanos. It won’t lead you anywhere you want to go.”
The words make me shiver. Finally I remember the rain and the mess I must look like. “I should get back to my lessons,” I mutter, fully intending to leave him on the balcony. Instead, he catches my arm.
“I think I can help you with your problem.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “What problem?”
“You don’t seem like the type of girl to weep at the drop of a hat. You’re homesick.” He holds up a hand before I can protest. “I can fix that.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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FOURTEEN
Security patrols my hallway in roving pairs, but with Maven on my arm, they don’t stop me. Even though it’s night, long past when I should be in bed, no one says a word. No one crosses a prince. Where he’s leading now, I don’t know, but he promised to get me there. Home.
He’s quiet but determined, fighting a small smile. I can’t help but beam at him. Maybe he isn’t so bad. But he stops us long before I assume he should—we never even leave the residence floors.
“Here we are,” he says, and raps on the door.
It swings open after a moment, revealing Cal. His appearance takes me back a step. His chest is bare, while the rest of his strange armor hangs off him. Metal plates woven into fabric, some of it dented. I don’t miss the purple bruise above his heart, or the faint stubble on his cheeks. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in over a week and I’ve caught him at a bad moment, obviously. He doesn’t notice me at first; he’s focused on removing more of his armor. It makes me gulp.
“Got the board set, Mavey—,” he begins, but stops when he looks up to see me standing with his brother. “Mare, how can I, uh, what can I do for you?” He stumbles over his words, at a loss for once.
“I’m not exactly sure,” I reply, looking from him to Maven. My betrothed only smirks, raising an eyebrow a little.
“For being the good son, my brother has his own discretions,” he says, and his air is surprisingly playful. Even Cal grins a little,
rolling his eyes. “You wanted to go home, Mare, and I’ve found you someone who’s been there before.”
After a second of confusion, I realize what Maven is saying and how stupid I am for not realizing it before. Cal can get me out of the palace. Cal was at the tavern. . . . He got himself out of here, so he can do the same for me.
“Maven,” Cal says through gritted teeth, his grin gone. “You know she can’t. It’s not a good idea—”
It’s my turn to speak up, to take what I want. “Liar.”
He looks at me with his burning eyes, his stare going right through me. I hope he can see my determination, my desperation, my need.
“We’ve taken everything from her, brother,” Maven murmurs, drawing close. “Surely we can give her this?”
And then slowly, reluctantly, Cal nods and waves me into his room. Dizzy with excitement, I hurry inside, almost hopping from foot to foot.
I’m going home.
Maven lingers at the door, his smile fading a little when I leave his side. “You’re not coming.” It isn’t a question.
He shakes his head. “You’ll have enough to worry about without me tagging along.”
I don’t have to be a genius to see the truth in his words. But just because he isn’t coming doesn’t mean I will forget what he’s done for me already. Without thinking, I throw my arms around Maven. He doesn’t respond for a second, but slowly lets an arm drop around my shoulders. When I pull back, a silver blush paints his cheeks. I can feel my own blood run hot beneath my skin, pounding in my ears.
“Don’t be too long,” he says, tearing his eyes away from me to look at Cal.
Cal barely smirks. “You act like I’ve never done this before.”
The brothers share a chuckle, laughing just for each other like I’ve seen my brothers do a thousand times before. When the door shuts behind Maven, leaving me with Cal, I can’t help but feel a little less animosity toward the princes.
Cal’s room is twice the size of mine, but so cluttered it seems smaller. Armor and uniforms and combat suits fill the alcoves along the walls, all hanging from what I assume are models of Cal’s body. They tower over me like faceless ghosts, staring with invisible eyes. Most of the armor is light, steel plate and thick fabric, but a few are heavy-duty, meant for battle, not training. One even has a helmet of shining metal, with a tinted glass faceplate. An insignia glitters on the sleeve, sewn into the dark gray material. The flaming black crown and silver wings. What it means, what the uniforms are for, what Cal has done in them, I don’t want to think about.